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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361720">When the night meets the morning sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher'>EveningStarcatcher</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTyle/pseuds/JadeTyle'>JadeTyle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Community: Do It With Style Events, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang, F/F, F/M, M/M, Song fic, They'll figure it out eventually, but they're trying their best, feelings are big and hard sometimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:28:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTyle/pseuds/JadeTyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley encounter each other at different musical venues throughout the years and in these moments, stirred by music, they find themselves unable to deny themselves the chance to be close to each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1924</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Huge thanks to Do It With Style Mods for hosting the event and to my wonderful beta, leilakalomi</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 1</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> 1924<br/></em> <em> Chicago, Illinois, USA </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale stepped out of the taxi into the glowing lights. He opened his umbrella against the gentle patter of rain and stood on the corner for a moment, listening to the rain against the pavement, the chatter of voices, the distant sounds of music. He took a deep breath in, inhaling the sweet wet scent, then pulled a small card from his pocket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> S</em><em>harp increase in sinful acts in and around Chicago, Illinois, in America. Please investigate and report back when you have located the epicenter of the activity. Use caution </em> - <em> violence is on the rise and we are far too busy to issue you another corporation in a timely manner. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Best of luck! </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighed as he reread the words and the address he himself had written on the other side of the card. He’d been investigating for a few days now, finding every secret bar he could find, but none of them had any sort of demonic activity, though there didn’t need to be any, it seemed. The humans were quite capable of causing enough trouble on their own with their rival groups, criminal activity, and violent tendencies. Just last night he had escaped from a fight, only narrowly avoiding bloodshed due to a small miracle. </p>
<p>During the safer portion of his investigation he’d talked to a number of interesting locals who filled him in on who the most powerful men were and who to avoid and where the best places to find a real drink were. And it had led him here.</p>
<p>He straightened his waistcoat and started down the street, checking each building for a sign or street number.</p>
<p>He reached the one that matched the card - an unassuming brick building beside a rather flashy theatre facade. On the door was an elaborate knocker, which he rapped quickly.</p>
<p>The door creaked open, and a small man with a bowler hat pulled low over his face appeared.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>Azirpahale glanced down at the card again where, under the address, was printed the following phrase:</p>
<p>“What a glorious night for a quiet party,” he read aloud.</p>
<p>“Indeed it is. Come in,” the man nodded and swung the door open wider.</p>
<p>Aziraphale slipped in and the door was closed behind him. The entryway was dark, lit only by a single candle. He was led down the hallway, to another door, which, when opened, revealed a flight of stairs. </p>
<p>“Enjoy the party.” The man disappeared.</p>
<p>Azirphale descended the stairs and as he did, the sounds of jazz washed over him. Quick runs of the piano, the plunking of the upright bass, the sweet strains of the saxophone.</p>
<p>And then he was there. It was crowded, filled with life and light and laughter. Small round tables and plush booths lined the room in a wide semicircle, leaving plenty of room for dancing in the center, which was bustling with couples doing the charleston and the shimmy. On the far wall was a stage, small and full of musicians and their gleaming instruments.</p>
<p>A mixture of deep reds and greens and dark woods made the room feel small, intimate, and the crowds of people even more so. </p>
<p>He made his way carefully to the bar and ordered one of whatever the bartender was pouring for the fellow who stood waiting beside him, then made his way to a vacant table with his glass.</p>
<p>He sipped at it, wincing at the taste. Watered down. Make it go farther, sell more, make more money. He sighed and set the glass down. He considered waving his hand over the glass, just a small motion. Change the water to… well. But that wasn’t his trick, was it? Best not draw attention to himself with even a small burst of divine power.</p>
<p>That’s when he felt it - the tingle of a demonic presence. He glanced around the room, but saw no signs of occult activity. Just humans doing what humans do, only more illegal. (How this was illegal, Aziraphale could not understand. If an angel could appreciate a good drink now and then, the humans certainly ought to be able to.)</p>
<p>But this presence was definitely something he could report to Head Office. This speakeasy would very likely be experiencing a raid from the Prohibition Officers in the near future. He secretly hoped that the owners would have a place to hide their contraband and that no one in attendance would suffer from it. He was careful not to wish hard enough to bless the place.<br/><br/>He glanced around the room again. It was quite elegant for an establishment that was supposedly suffering from the Volstead Act. It was electric, so full of movement. Except for one spot - a booth across the way from his table, at which were sat a number of men in sharp suits. They leaned over the table and talked rapidly in what Aziraphale assumed were hushed tones. Another man joined them for a few moments, though he was dressed differently. Clearly less wealthy and somewhat nervous. When he left the table just a minute later, he kept his hand in his pocket and slipped away quickly. Aziraphale thought he heard the word “officer” being whispered by someone at a nearby table as the man passed by. </p>
<p>Ah, police on the payroll. That would explain things, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t prevent raids, but a little warning would be extremely helpful if it came to it.</p>
<p>And then the mood shifted. The men in the booth relaxed, their attention shifted to the stage. The upbeat music slipped into something softer, something sweeter. A waltz. The couples on the dance floor moved slowly together, wrapped in the sweet embrace of their partners.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Everything went wrong<br/></em> <em> And the whole day long<br/></em> <em> I'd feel so blue </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The voice was low, sultry, beautiful. A hush fell over the room as the singer cast her spell, weaving a web of words and notes and breaths that captivated and seduced.</p>
<p>He could feel the sadness in the words, the undercurrent of personal connection with the text, the heart behind it.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s eyes swept the room, landing lastly on the singer. He gasped.</p>
<p>The singer was dressed in a floor length black gown that shimmered slightly under the lights. The neckline plunged in a deep V, a bit of red lace peeking through. Her fiery hair was short and curled around the sharp features of her face, and around her neck twisted a necklace that resembled a serpent with glittering gold eyes. Her own eyes were covered with a strip of black lace that tied behind her head with a scarlet ribbon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> For the longest while<br/></em> <em> I'd forget to smile<br/></em> <em> Then I met you<br/></em> <em> Now that my blue days have passed<br/></em> <em> Now that I've found you at last - </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her focus swept over the room and hesitated when it reached Aziraphale. He froze. He tried to read her reaction, but performers are trained to keep their composure no matter what distractions in the audience. But when you’ve known someone for a long time, you know every expression, no matter how subtle. And he was almost sure there was a flicker of surprise in the twitch of her lips. Or maybe that was just a trick of the light. </p>
<p>His heart thudded against his ribs as the singer glided downstage, her focus mercifully on the rest of the crowd, but her words were directed not at them, Aziraphale was sure of it. Each syllable cut right to the heart of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> I'll be loving you always<br/></em> <em> With a love that's true always<br/></em> <em> When the things you've planned<br/></em> <em> Need a helping hand<br/></em> <em> I will understand always </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale swallowed hard. She turned her head back toward him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Always </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale was sure he could see the shining trail of a tear down her cheek. She took a deep breath and turned to the opposite side of the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Days may not be fair always<br/></em> <em> That's when I'll be there always<br/></em> <em> Not for just an hour<br/></em> <em> Not for just a day<br/></em> <em> Not for just a year<br/></em> <em> But always </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Memories flooded Aziraphale’s mind - a presence by his side on the wall, at the ark, at the crucifixion. Smiles in Rome and a kind gesture at the opening of a bookshop.</p>
<p>And then the sting of a slip of paper and a misspoken word. The lonely days that filled the years since.  </p>
<p>He was overcome with regret. Shame burned in his throat as the tears threatened to spill. He shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. He shouldn’t have stormed off. He shouldn’t have let so much time go by without a word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> I'll be loving you, oh always<br/></em> <em> With a love that's true always </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The singer’s voice was strained with emotion, sliding between notes, soft cracks and breathy tones peeking through from time to time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the things you've planned<br/><em> Need a helping hand<br/></em>I will understand always</p>
<p>
  <em> Always </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The room erupted in applause, startling Aziraphale out of his reverie. Out of the space in his mind where it was only he and the singer. Where they were alone. Where they were able to talk about their feelings freely and honestly.</p>
<p>The applause brought him back to reality. To the place where he was on one side and the singer on the other. Where they were enemies and it was wrong, dangerous, to pretend otherwise.</p>
<p>He watched, somewhat in a daze, while the singer took a bow, threw a dazzling smile to the audience, and disappeared from the stage.</p>
<p>The band picked back up with an upbeat number, and the spell was broken. The dance floor was a flurry of movement; people by the bar laughed and cheered and called to each over the din.</p>
<p>Aziraphale took a long, shaky breath in, attempting to steady his racing heart. Silly thing to do, really. He didn’t need his heart to beat and he didn’t need his lungs to breathe, but he’d picked up more than a few habits from living on Earth for so long, and he was having quite a hard time repressing the humanity of his corporation. </p>
<p>Then the gentle pressure of a hand on his shoulder and his heart jumped.</p>
<p>“May I sit?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked up. Golden eyes veiled by black lace, red lips in a nervous smile, a thin hand with long, red nails still on his shoulder. </p>
<p>“Yes, of course, my dear. You look wond- well.” He stuttered.</p>
<p>“I could say the same for you, angel.”</p>
<p>“And what brings you here?” Aziraphale lifted his glass to his lips and winced, having forgotten about the watered-down drink.</p>
<p>“It’s awful, isn’t it?” A snap of fingers and the drink shifted a shade darker. Upon closer inspection, it was not only more potent, but a completely different drink. Much better quality.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“No problem. And to answer your question, this is the best place to be. Lots of <em> deeds </em> that I don’t need to be doing myself.”</p>
<p>“So, you’re here to take credit for the humans’ work?”</p>
<p>“Look around, angel,” she smiled. “Alcohol is illegal, and we’re surrounded by it! There’s crime everywhere you look and they’re enjoying it!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale did look around and was struck with the same question he’d been wondering about earlier. <em> Why is this illegal? </em></p>
<p>“They are, rather. And I suppose you’ve incorporated yourself into this scheme?”</p>
<p>“In a way. I sing and people come to hear me. And in order to do that, they spend money. And when they spend money, other people,” she inclined her head very slightly toward a table of intimidating men in sharp suits, “make money. And with money comes power and with power comes desire for everything, an insatiable greed - lust, gluttony, wrath, you know the rest.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” Aziraphale hummed as he took another sip. “So, you just show up here, hang out with the most powerful people and just wait for the commendation of a job well...er, awfully done?”</p>
<p>“Pretty much. S’not a bad gig, really. Suppose you were sent here to run all the speakeasies out of existence?”</p>
<p>“Dear me, no. I’m just investigating. I’ve got to send a report about what I find here. The cause for the uptick in sin in the area.”</p>
<p>“And what will you say?”</p>
<p>“Traces of demonic presence found at the scene, but very faint. No longer active at the scene. Blessings were performed in hopes of the humans turning from their wicked ways.”</p>
<p>“And just how many blessings are you planning on performing?”</p>
<p>“Just enough to leave a trace. In case someone decides to follow up on my report.”</p>
<p>“Can I ask you a question, angel?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“Will you dance with me?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale froze, staring at lace-covered eyes, the hand offered out to him. In his silence, he heard the music, something slow and tender. He could see the couples on the dance floor holding each other close. He was lightheaded and wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the being before him. He felt his own head nod without his permission and his hand press itself into the one held out to him.</p>
<p>They stood and crossed to the floor. Aziraphale moved awkwardly, stiffly at first.</p>
<p>“Relax, angel. It’s just a dance.”</p>
<p>“Of course it is. I’m just a bit out of practice.”</p>
<p>“Don’t need to practice for this, just feel the music.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Just feel the music. Don’t be distracted by the stunning creature in your arms. Don’t memorize the earthy scent of her, the way she feels pressed against you, the way her breath tickles your ear and makes your hair stand on end, the way she makes your heart race and your heart ache and your lips… </em>
</p>
<p>“Better.”</p>
<p>“Is it? I mean, are things?” His voice cracked with emotion.</p>
<p>“We’re here, aren’t we?”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t mean.... Last time we… I….”</p>
<p>“Don’t think about that right now.”</p>
<p>“But-”</p>
<p>“Be here. With me. Right now. Just let go.”</p>
<p>And he did. He let go and moved, holding her close. </p>
<p>The words from her song echoed in his head: <em> I'll be loving you always. With a love that's true always. </em></p>
<p>It felt as if she’d been singing to him, but that couldn’t be true. And yet, here they were. She knew he was here and came to say hello. She could have been furious. Could have walked away. Could have yelled. Could have discorporated him on the spot. And he wouldn’t have blamed her.</p>
<p>But instead they danced. They had talked like friends do, and now they danced. There was no anger or animosity here, just the two of them. Together.</p>
<p>Aziraphale let his head rest against her shoulder, his resolve slipping. She was so close. This wasn’t allowed. But then again, none of this was allowed, was it? It was a speakeasy, after all. It was, by its very nature, not allowed, and so anything goes, right?</p>
<p>She ran fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He sighed and pressed his lips to the curve of her throat.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>She froze.</p>
<p>He straightened up.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>“Sorry? Why?” Golden eyes were wide behind their veil.</p>
<p>“That was rather...forward of me. I was caught up in the moment.”</p>
<p>“Do you think you could get caught up again?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“The song’s not over yet. Just one more moment.” She drew closer to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her cheek pressed to his.</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear….” Aziraphale could barely breathe. He was overcome with feelings he couldn’t give name to. The door was slipping open and he couldn’t force it closed.</p>
<p>He shifted back, let his forehead press to hers. They breathed together, eyes closed, just being. Being together.</p>
<p>And then they were kissing. He was unsure who moved first, or maybe they both did, but lips were on lips and it felt like lightning. Tendrils of electricity originating from the point of impact and spreading, webbing through his entire body until his fingertips tingled with it. And then his hands were on her, pulling her closer, tangling in her hair, caressing her, displaying his need, his want, his love.</p>
<p>And then he pulled away. Stepped away.</p>
<p>“Angel…” she breathed, hands reaching out for him. Her smile was soft, crooked, dreamy.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” The dreamy haze cleared and she was taut, worried.</p>
<p>“This. This is wrong. We can’t… I have to go.”</p>
<p>“What? Why?” She stepped toward him and he backed away, knocking into another couple on the floor.</p>
<p>“My apologies,” he said to the couple. “I’m sorry,” He said to her.</p>
<p>“Angel. Please don’t go.” </p>
<p>“I have to. Please don’t follow me. I have to submit my report and I don’t want you nearby, just in case.” Aziraphale pushed his way through the crowd to the door, but he couldn’t lose her.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale, please.” </p>
<p>A hand soft on his arm made him freeze. He looked back at her and his heart nearly shattered with shame and desire. It felt as if there were a vise squeezing his chest and he couldn’t catch his breath. </p>
<p>“Goodbye, Crowley.”</p>
<p>She let her arm fall to her side and Aziraphale practically ran up the steps, down the hallway, and out of the building. </p>
<p>Outside, the air was cool, less stifling. He breathed deeply, leaning against the brick, letting the mist of rain wash away the fear. He wished it could wash away the shame, but he knew it would take a tempest stronger that the Flood to even begin to do that.</p>
<p>He pressed a palm to his chest until his heart found its normal rhythm once again. And then he pushed himself up and walked off into the night, leaving behind him a miracle pressed into the building, giving each person inside its walls a little boost of goodwill - except for the club singer, who was left with a gentle sting in her feet and an ache in her chest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 1948</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>1948, NYC<br/>An uptick in miracles across the United States leads Crowley to New York to catch a show where she runs into an angel in a completely new form.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Beta'd by the fantastic leilakalomi</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> 1948 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> New York, New York, United States </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley lurked in the shadows for a moment, taking a deep breath. She straightened her jacket and rolled her shoulders, preparing for the battle ahead.</p><p> </p><p>Head Office had informed her of some good will migrating across Europe and the United States, so Crowley had cross referenced their report with the tour dates of a certain travelling show that happened to be performing tonight at a club just across the street from where she now stood. She knew who was involved. It just had to be. Heaven had no one else stationed down here, and the world was still reeling from the war. It would make sense that some extra blessings would be given. And so, here she was, hiding outside the club.</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t ready for a magic show. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to see those familiar blue eyes again this soon. She’d seen them at the church in London, drove them back to the bookshop, and that was it. No invitation inside. Just a stuttered thanks and a hurried goodbye and that was it. </p><p> </p><p>And now she was here to stir up trouble, cancel out the angelic presence, nudge some humans toward sin, but all she wanted to do was hide.</p><p> </p><p>She had let her feelings show in the rubble of the church. Had gone too far. Had offered her heart and the angel had returned it to her as gently as could be managed, and then fled. Not enough years had passed to heal from that. She wasn’t sure there <em> were </em> enough years for that. She’d spent so long wanting and she’d gotten a taste on the dance floor in Chicago. She had been rejected that night and she had been rejected again in 1941. If she didn’t pull herself together, she’d be dealing with a punishment from Head Office, which she didn’t think would be so bad. Might take her mind off her broken heart.</p><p> </p><p>Her heart that wasn’t supposed to love. And yet it did. It did, even now. Even after being rejected. It refused to stop loving. Damned thing.</p><p> </p><p>She took a breath and ran across the street, forced her limbs to move as quickly as they could, despite her heels. </p><p> </p><p>She barely noticed the glowing lights or the man calling after her to pay for admission. She snapped her fingers and he blinked for a moment, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing, and returned to work.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley made her way through the lobby and into the theatre to her seat, choosing one in the back, out of sight for the performers looking into stage lights. Perfect for surveillance and for escape, should she need to make herself scarce quickly. </p><p> </p><p>The room was full of people, chatting excitedly. The show had gotten quite a write-up in all the big newspapers and the buzz had certainly worked to get people here. It was only a couple of minutes to showtime - time for a drink. She would need one to get through this, she was sure. She waved her hand and a glass appeared in it. She drank the whole thing in one go, then filled it again with a twist of her wrist. </p><p> </p><p>The lights dimmed and there was a burst of applause. A man in a pinstripe suit stepped onstage to give the welcome speech. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley didn’t listen. She didn’t listen to him or any of the other performers, only vaguely aware that there was even music or talking or anything else happening. She was focused, waiting, for one certain performer. She could feel the angelic presence, but only barely.</p><p> </p><p>“Must be hiding yourself. But I’d find you anywhere,” Crowley whispered to herself as the room burst into applause again. She sighed and turned her attention to the stage as the same man from the beginning stepped up to the microphone.</p><p> </p><p>“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I am pleased to introduce the Nightingale of New York, Miss Adelaide!”</p><p> </p><p>The room exploded in cheers and then fell silent as the lights changed. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley let her head fall back with a disappointed huff. Where was her angel? Well, not <em> her </em> angel. That much was made very clear.</p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes as the sweet swell of strings filled the room, swirling and sighing in the most beautiful way. It pulled on Crowley’s heart. How she missed her… no, <em> the </em> angel.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day by day I'm falling more in love with you </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice of the singer was beautiful. Smooth and high and soft with the gentlest vibrato. Warm and comforting. It felt like a warm blanket. Or a hug.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And day by day my love seems to grow </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Each word was delivered with complete sincerity and something that felt like sadness. Like she was singing of an unrequited love that still hurt and she was pouring her heart out to a room full of strangers because the subject of her affection wouldn’t listen.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There isn't any end to my devotion </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s heart ached. She knew this feeling all too well. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It's deeper dear by far than any ocean </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She opened her eyes and let her head lift, her eyes focusing on the stage. She gasped.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I find that day by day you're making all my dreams come true </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She knew those blue eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And come what may I want you to know </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She knew those pale curls, though they were longer now.</p><p> </p><p><em> I'm yours alone, and I'm in love to stay </em> </p><p> </p><p>She knew those pink lips, though they wore lipstick now. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I'm yours alone, and I'm in love to stay </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She knew that soft form, though it was shaped differently now. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As we go through the years day by day </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She knew this complete stranger. This woman before her, though she’d never seen her look like this. She knew her almost as well as she knew herself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As we go through the years day by day </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s breath came in quiet, shuddering breaths. She wiped at the tears that streaked her face. She had not expected this. She had expected a huge smile and terrible card tricks. She had expected rabbits and balloons and birds and flowers.</p><p> </p><p>But that wasn’t at all what lay before her. </p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale glowed radiantly under the stage lights, haloed in gold as well as robed in it, her gown shimmering with every breath and movement. She smiled softly, tenderly, as her voice carried over the room.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley glanced around and found that she was not the only one with tears on her face. Half the room, at least. </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>As the last note faded away the crowd jumped to their feet, cheering and applauding. Aziraphale took a bow and retreated to the backstage area. Crowley felt the sting of a blessing creep up her spine and downed another drink before waving the glass away.</p><p> </p><p>When the lights came up, Crowley was already on her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Dressing rooms?” she asked someone who looked like maybe they worked there.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you a friend of one of the performers?” the man asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Miss Adelaide. Old friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky you. I’ll let her know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather surprise her. If that’s okay. It’s been a while. Like I said, old friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Follow me.” He turned and led her up a set of stairs at the side of the stage, backstage, down a hallway, and finally, to the dressing rooms. There was a paper star taped to the door with neat letters printed on it reading <em> Miss Adelaide. </em></p><p> </p><p>The man knocked on the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” came a voice from inside.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ready for a visitor?”</p><p> </p><p>“Visitor?” She sounded surprised, which surprised Crowley. Based on the audience reactions, she would assume there would be a constant stream of visitors. “Yes, they may come in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck with your reunion,” the man smiled, then strode back down the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley slowly pushed open the door. Aziraphale was no longer in her gown, but in a silk robe, sitting at the mirror. Her eyes met Crowley’s in the mirror and her jaw dropped.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley!” She turned and stared.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley couldn’t read her expression. It was too complex. Too many emotions fighting to be displayed. Or perhaps fighting not to.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, angel.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing he-” she cut herself off. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley tried to ignore the pained memory of the last time the angel had spoken those words.</p><p>“What a surprise to see you here. A pleasant one.” Aziraphale smiled up at her. “Please, sit.” She gestured to a small couch to the left of the mirror and Crowley crossed to it.</p><p> </p><p>“Heard about the show and all the good deeds that followed each performance. Thought you might have something to do with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you figured it out. You’re quite clever.” She blushed, then rushed on. “Heaven wasn’t sure what to do with me after the war, so I suggested a bit of travel, spreading goodwill, and they loved the idea. Gave me complete control.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, why the singing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought it might be nice. I have always loved music. And I am an angel. Singing was once part of the job description.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sounded like an angel tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did I?” Aziraphale’s blue eyes widened.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, you sounded… nice.” Crowley winced at her words. Why was she so bad at this? Why couldn’t she get her heart under control. Aziraphale had made it clear that she didn’t feel the same way.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed.</p><p> </p><p>And then she was beside Crowley on the couch. Turned slightly to face her, their knees touching.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose you’re here to put a stop to the blessings, then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t have to stop them, just have to balance things out a bit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, well. That’s good then. I mean, bad. I mean, acceptable,” Aziraphale’s hands wrung in her lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley, I-”</p><p> </p><p>They spoke over each other, froze, then laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“You first, angel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley, I am terribly sorry for how I acted in Chicago. And in London. I was so cold and I didn’t explain and I’m just so very sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley was silent for a moment, taken aback. “W-why did you act like that?” She gently placed a finger under Aziraphale’s chin and raised it to meet her gaze.</p><p> </p><p>“I was… scared.” </p><p> </p><p>“Scared of what?” Crowley found herself leaning in, though she didn’t remember telling her body to.</p><p> </p><p>“What I wanted.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, their lips just a breath apart. “I want you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have me.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley closed the distance and Aziraphale sighed against her lips as they pressed, soft and warm, against hers. They pulled apart to catch their breath, hearts pounding.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you- do you want me, too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Angel, of course I do.” Crowley pressed a kiss to her cheek, her forehead, her nose, any skin she could reach.</p><p> </p><p>“The song I sang tonight, it was for you, darling. It’s always for you. I always imagined you there. Sitting in the audience.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here now, angel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kiss me again, Crowley.”</p><p> </p><p>She did.  And then she pulled away.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait. Can I- can we have this?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Aziraphale’s eyes were dreamy, fighting to comprehend.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to run out on me? My heart can’t take it. Not again.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale straightened up, her expression set and serious. “Oh, my dear. I’m so ashamed. I was quite overwhelmed and I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m so sorry. And I know that no apology will ever be enough for hurting you the way I did. But I will try to make it up to you. In any and every way I can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you mean that?” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hands. “Do you <em> mean </em> that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“You want this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can have this?”</p><p> </p><p>“If we’re careful, yes. I don’t want to lose you, Crowley. And neither of our Head Offices would tolerate this-”</p><p> </p><p>“But you’re saying you want this, you want <em> me </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale placed a warm palm against Crowley’s cheek and smiled impossibly fondly. “<em> Yes </em>, darling.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley surged forward. This kiss was messy and desperate. Crowley wrapped her arms around Aziraphale’s waist and Aziraphale’s found their way around Crowley’s shoulders. They pressed themselves together as they kissed. Crowley’s tongue darted out, licking across Aziraphale’s bottom lip, pulling out a moan that urged Crowley to delve deeper, to explore the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale’s fingers pulled at Crowley’s hair and let her tongue begin to explore as well. Crowley shifted them, laid Aziraphale on her back, carefully placing her head on the pillow against the armrest.</p><p> </p><p>She kissed the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth, then her cheek, then her jaw, then kissed a line down her neck. The angel squirmed beneath her, letting out pleased sighs.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley reached down and undid the robe’s tie.</p><p> </p><p>“Wha-?” Aziraphale mumbled, looking down at Crowley with wide, but glossy, eyes. Crowley shifted back, let the tie fall from her hand, gave Aziraphale space.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to see you. May I?”</p><p> </p><p>“But… why?”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you’d do anything to make it up to me, right?” Crowley purred.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, but...”</p><p> </p><p>“No, angel. Sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean it. I was….” She shifted back, giving Aziraphale space to think, to speak her needs. “It was a really stupid thing to say. I was trying to be clever and sexy, but…. Just forget I said it.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “I understand. And I… I want you. I don’t want you to stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want this?” Crowley asked softly, her hands trailing slowly back to the robe’s tie.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“You sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley kissed her again. It was slower this time, but no less passionate. No need to rush, settle into it, enjoy it, savor it. </p><p> </p><p>When Crowley’s hand once again tugged at the robe’s tie, Aziraphale stiffened. </p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Crowley pulled away, studying the angel’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” It was just a whisper, but Crowley felt it through her whole body.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you doing this?” Blue eyes shimmered with a complex mixture of emotions - desire, love, and fear at the strength of those emotions.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I want to.” Crowley was emphatic, the words tumbling out earnestly. “I want to make you feel good. I want you to feel as good as you are. You are beautiful, angel. Gorgeous. The most incredible thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’ve always thought so. You’re better than everyone. Better than all the angels and all the humans. The best thing ever created. You’re good and kind and just enough of a bastard. You love so damn much and no one ever stops to show you love in return.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do.” Aziraphale’s face was soft, but sure.</p><p> </p><p>“I-ngk. What?” Crowley swallowed hard.</p><p> </p><p>“You do.” The words came slowly, hesitantly, as if she were coming to the realization as she spoke. “You always have. Lunches, chocolates, saving my books,” her voice cracked. “You’ve always been there for me. Always ready to show me that you care.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… of course. You deserve it. And I’ll keep doing it until you realize that you do. And longer than that. If you’ll have me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale’s eyes were damp.</p><p> </p><p>“But back to the present. I want to do this. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “I still have work to do. A little lust would go a long way in my report.”</p><p> </p><p>“But-”</p><p> </p><p>“I never use names, angel,” she winked.</p><p> </p><p>“But you…” Aziraphale’s face dropped.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Not me. Never me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then-”</p><p> </p><p>“I just influence, encourage. But I never-”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.”</p><p> </p><p>They stared at each other.</p><p> </p><p>“So, can I…” Crowley ran a hand along the silk robe.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale shivered, then nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley moved slowly. She kissed the hollow of Aziraphale’s throat. Then her sternum. Crowley shifted the fabric and kissed across her collarbone, then pushed the silk off Aziraphale’s shoulders and pressed warm kisses there, too. </p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale was warm and soft and pliant beneath her. She whimpered and sighed and moaned and it was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever heard. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley pushed the fabric away from Aziraphale’s waist only to find more fabric beneath.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I get rid of this?” Crowley asked as she nipped at Aziraphale’s throat.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>,” she moaned.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley snapped and everything under the robe disappeared, but the robe stayed. Crowley liked the feel of it, liked the way it dragged across Aziraphale’s skin - Aziraphale’s skin, which was now on display for her. It was glorious. Smooth and soft and sensuous. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley kissed her way down to Aziraphale’s breasts. She kissed her way around them. She kissed her way across them. She drew them each into her mouth and worshipped them as Aziraphale cried out in pleasure beneath her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Oh, Crowley!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, angel. Let me hear you.” Crowley encouraged.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Darling </em>! You are so good to me.” Aziraphale’s hands were in Crowley’s hair again and she fucking loved how the angel pulled and massaged against her scalp.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fuck </em>!” Crowley’s word was muffled against the vast expanse of stomach before her, as she kissed and nipped and licked her way down.</p><p> </p><p>Down.</p><p> </p><p>Down.</p><p> </p><p>“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale’s back arched as Crowley’s clever tongue dragged against her.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this okay?” Crowley pulled back, searching the angel’s face for any sign of discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s chest heaved as her eyes tried to focus on Crowley’s face between her legs. “Yes. Yes, it’s more than okay. But what about you? You’re still dressed.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is about you, angel. M’on the job, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>“But you said <em> OOOOH </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s tongue was back at work and Aziraphale was speechless, writhing ecstatically under Crowley’s ministrations, praising and encouraging when she could form a word or two. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley felt as if her heart would break out of her chest. She loved Aziraphale with her entire being and here she was, finally able to demonstrate it. To devote herself to pleasuring her angel, making her feel good and safe and loved. </p><p> </p><p>She lost herself to the sweet noises Aziraphale made above her, following their lead to bring the angel more pleasure. Just a bit higher, just a big rougher, just a bit harder…. And sooner than Crowley wanted, it was over. Aziraphale cried out one last time, something that sounded almost like Crowley’s name, and murmured affectionate names as the waves of pleasure subdued.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley snapped them clean and wrapped the angel up in her arms and held her tight as the angel recovered.</p><p> </p><p>“Darling, that was incredible,” she panted. “You’re so beautiful. I must tell you that I lo-”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh,” Crowley soothed, running fingers through pale curls. “It’s okay, angel. You don’t have to say it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t?” Blue eyes blinked up at her.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Gotta be careful, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right,” Aziraphale let her head slump against Crowley’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“S’okay, though. We’re still here. We’re together.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have to go. Later tonight. I’ve still got three weeks left of the tour.” </p><p> </p><p>“Right.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will you come with us?”</p><p> </p><p>“I shouldn’t. It might be suspicious. Better not to stay too close for too long.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Aziraphale’s arms tightened around Crowley’s waist. “What will you do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Should probably do some extra temptations in the cities you hit, then maybe back across the pond.”</p><p> </p><p>“When will I see you again?” The question was quiet, broken.</p><p> </p><p>“Soon, angel. I promise.” Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead and moved to stand.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have to. You’ve got to get ready to head out.” Crowley smiled sadly.</p><p> </p><p>“Just a few more minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s never just a few more anything with you, angel. You forget, I’ve known you for thousands of years.”</p><p> </p><p>“That you have,” a shy smile played across her lips. “Goodbye then, Crowley. I will see you again soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley closed the dressing room door behind her, feeling as if her heart were about to burst from her chest and sprinkle the world with stardust.</p><p><br/>
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